Hiroshi's chest heaved as he caught his breath, adrenaline still coursing. One by one, his Pokémon gathered around him in the cool night, eyes reflecting the glow of the burning base. They were all safe. He took a moment to kneel and pat Lairon's hard head gratefully (his hand stung from the impact of patting that solid armor, but Lairon closed its eyes in contentment). "Excellent work, everyone," he praised them quietly. They had done the impossible yet again.
A soft cry from the woods behind him reminded Hiroshi of the mission's most important outcome. The children and the rescued Pokémon. He turned and made his way through the brush toward the pre-arranged safe zone where Daisy and Alakazam had taken the hostages. The forest clearing just beyond the hill came into view, bathed in gentle moonlight.
There, huddled together under a tall oak, were the five children and the Pokémon they'd been imprisoned with. They looked startled by the distant explosions, eyes reflecting fear and uncertainty. But Daisy stood among them, her slender form emanating a calming aura that kept them from panic, and Alakazam hovered watchfully at the edge of the glade, two spoons raised as he maintained a faint psychic shield around the area in case any stragglers from the base had pursued (none had).
The moment Hiroshi stepped into the clearing, the children tensed. To them, he was a stranger – the frightening man in a uniform and mask had vanished (left behind in the tunnel was the latex disguise and voice modulator that he discarded). Now they saw a young man, barely older than some of the teens among them, dressed in a form-fitting black tactical suit, with a kind but weary face and messy silver hair. Could this really be the same person?
Hiroshi raised his hands non threateningly and approached slowly. "Hi there," he said softly, voice warm and gentle. "I'm the one who got you out. I know I might look different now – I had to wear a disguise back there." He gave a small, reassuring smile. "You're safe now. I promise."
A beat of silence, then recognition flickered in a couple of their eyes. The older girl with the leg brace – perhaps 11 years old – spoke first. "I remember your voice… you said you were a friend." She managed a trembling smile. "You really are, aren't you?"
Hiroshi nodded. He knelt down a few feet away, making himself level with them. Up close, he could see the toll of their captivity: the kids were pale, malnourished, with track marks from needles and bandages covering fresh wounds. But they were alive and free, and that was what mattered now. "My name's not important right now. What matters is getting you all home."
The word home brought a wave of emotion over the group. One boy's eyes filled with tears instantly, and he bit his lip, perhaps holding back a sob at the thought of seeing his family again. A younger girl, the one who had called Daisy an angel, clung to Pikachu like a stuffed toy, burying her face in its fur. Pikachu gently patted the girl's arm with its paw, cheeks sparking softly as if offering comfort.
Hiroshi reached into a pocket on his tactical vest and pulled out a small stack of cards. Each card bore a simple logo of a silver fox head against a black background and a phone number with an international code. He distributed them carefully to the oldest children, knowing they'd help the younger ones. "Keep these cards safe. They have a number that will connect you to my team. We have people on the way to pick you up, but if you ever feel lost or in danger, call that number. We'll get you back to your families, I swear."
The 11-year-old girl took the cards with a trembling hand. "How do we know who to trust? What if… what if the bad guys come back?" Her voice wavered; she'd been trying to be brave for the others, but now, free from the cages, the uncertainty of the world was hitting her.
Before Hiroshi could answer, Daisy stepped forward gracefully. The Gardevoir bowed her head slightly and then projected a warm pulse of psychic emotion – a feeling of safety and trust. The children visibly relaxed. The girl with the cards looked at Daisy and then at Hiroshi. "Your Pokémon… they really care about us, don't they?"
"They do," Hiroshi affirmed. "Daisy and my friends will stay with you until help arrives. No bad guys will get near you, I promise."
The boy with tears in his eyes sniffled and unexpectedly walked up to Hiroshi. He looked about 7. Without a word, he threw his small arms around Hiroshi's waist in a hug. Hiroshi stiffened in surprise; it had been a long time since anyone had hugged him so openly. Gently, he patted the boy's back. The child whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Angel."
Hiroshi felt a lump in his throat. "I'm no angel," he replied softly, tousling the boy's hair. "Just a friend."
The boy pulled back and looked at him seriously. "You saved us. You and your Pokémon. You're like a superhero… or a ninja!" There was a faint spark of light in the child's eyes – the wonder of someone who had just witnessed something extraordinary beyond comprehension. To a kid, perhaps this all did seem like a fantastical anime come to life.
Hiroshi chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Maybe a little like a ninja," he conceded, unable to keep from smiling.
Now that the immediate fear was fading, the children's natural curiosity began to peek through. One of them – a timid boy with glasses that had somehow survived the ordeal intact – pointed at Raichu and asked, "Is that a Pikachu too? It's big… and orange."
Before Hiroshi could answer, Pikachu itself piped up from the girl's arms with a proud "Pika-pika!" while gesturing at Raichu. Raichu sauntered over with a grin and flexed its arms comically, as if to say "I'm the upgraded model." The children giggled at the display – an honest, heartwarming sound cutting through the gloom of the night. Raichu then went over and gently lifted its smaller counterpart onto its shoulder, giving Pikachu a piggyback ride. The sight of the two electric mice together, one clearly the evolved form of the other, drew awed oohs and ahhs from the kids.